Per Curiam Decision
by Erikthephantom07
Summary: Rachel Dawes has a very important decision to make - the white blouse or the black blouse?


**Per Curiam Decision**

Rachel was a decision maker. Whether it was whether to push the prosecution or cut a deal (prosecute), drive to work or public transportation (metro) or Harvey's tie (the blue one), she was always on top.

Therefore, the shock at not being able to decide on the black blouse or the white blouse was almost unbearable. What had happened to her? What had happened to calm, cool, and in control Rachel that forced her to stand before her modest wardrobe in her underwear?

She was still staring at them when the whirlwind known as Harvey Dent burst out of the bathroom, muttering to himself and tying his tie around his bare neck. When he realized what he was doing he made an odd growling noise, not unlike Batman interrogating a known mob drug dealer, and ripped it off. That's when he noticed Rachel.

"Rachel?" he asked, tie in hand and a marked note of impatience in his voice. "Were you coming down to MCU today or not?"

"I…don't know…"

"You don't know," Harvey repeated in disbelief. Then he shook his head. "Alright, well, I'm headed down as soon as I can find my shirt so…so yeah. I guess I'll see you later. After I find my shirt."

As he looked for it, however, he kept glancing over at her. They'd been in the middle of a fairly serious conversation last night before he'd suddenly blacked out, only to wake up an hour later in the Wayne penthouse supply closet. That had definitely been different.

After that, between banging on the door for freedom, filing a police report, and calling a cab home, he and Rachel had barely said two words to each other. And on top of all that, Harvey was starving. He'd been too nervous to eat before the fundraiser and hadn't been able to make it to the buffet table during the fundraiser. Now, with only 30 minutes of sleep on the drive back he was heading out again for MCU. The threats against him and the deaths of Judge Cerillo and Commissioner Loeb made him realize that if they were going to prosecute the mob they needed to act fast. They needed Lau's testimony ASAP before something else happened to either himself, Gordon or Lau. With that testimony it wouldn't matter who the judge, prosecutor or even defense was. That testimony would be damning and they needed it.

"Harvey, you're thinking out loud again."

Harvey looked up from his frantic buttoning. "I was?"

"Yeah." Rachel still hadn't turned around.

"Sorry," he muttered, and surveyed his buttoning job with an exasperated sigh. The bottom button was in the wrong hole. Why could he be so calm in the face of a firearm but unable to button his own shirt?

"You're doing it again."

"Sorry, Rachel, I didn't realize it was so annoying. Sometimes, I don't know, things just make more sense when I say them out loud."

"Well sometimes the way you carry on with yourself I think there are three of us in here."

Harvey let out a deep, calming breath, throwing his tie violently around his neck. "I'm so sorry that my infernal habits ruin your morning routine," he apologized sarcastically. "If I'm so annoying to you why'd you even bother coming home with me?"

"My best clothes are here," she countered viciously, still staring at her blouses.

Harvey finally succeeded in dressing himself, having taken ten minutes longer than the average, garden variety District Attorney of Gotham City. He gave the tie one last, anger-filled yank, nearly strangling himself, and stormed out the door.

The slamming caused the two blouses to sway ominously on their hangers, black mixing with white, white with black. Why couldn't she choose? Black or white. Dark or Light. Night or Day. Bruce or Harvey.

Oh damn.

So that was what this was all about. She couldn't believe that she was finding parallels between the most important decision of her life and her shirt choice. She really was hopeless, as Harvey had said in the past. Of course, he'd been kidding then.

This was ridiculous. Loeb and Cerillo dead, the prosecution hanging solely on Harvey's shoulders, the Joker being…insane…and all she could think about was her love life. When had she become so shallow?

Harvey popping the question in his own quirky sort of way. He'd never actually asked her to marry him. Would that have made a difference? Probably not. It was bad timing on his part, really. Right after Bruce had basically told her that he was done with his whole stint as Batman, that he was finally ready and that she wouldn't have to wait anymore, Harvey sort of popped the question. She hated both of them right now.

Grabbing a blue shirt, not as nice and not nearly as professional, she finally dressed herself, having taken twenty minutes longer than the average, garden variety Assistant District Attorney of Gotham City, and stormed out of Harvey's apartment, slamming the door behind her.

Bruce was a member of one of the most famous, wealthiest families in the United States.

Harvey was from a modest household.

Bruce's father was a doctor.

Harvey's father was a cop.

Bruce's father sought to save Gotham from destroying itself by helping the helpless.

Harvey's father was an alcoholic.

Bruce's parents were shot dead in front of him in Crime Alley.

Harvey's mother killed herself.

Bruce was left alone, with only a butler and no siblings.

Harvey's brother's death was the cause of his mother's suicide and he was left with an abusive, alcoholic father.

Bruce never finished college. After an attempted murder he dropped off the face of the earth.

Harvey scraped his way to the top of his class, earning a scholarship to Gotham University while working two jobs.

Bruce spoke a dozen foreign languages.

Harvey spoke French if you wanted to know a few fun pickup lines.

Bruce had learned all of the martial arts and had educated himself in everything from botany to astrology to rocket science.

Harvey went for a run three days out of the week, went to the gym once a week, and had earned a law degree from Harvard.

Bruce was incarcerated near the Himalayas.

Harvey incarcerated criminals while working in Internal Affairs.

Bruce was admitted into the prestigious League of Shadows.

Harvey was a member of the Harvard Alumni Association.

Bruce was the center of Gotham high society.

Harvey was elected District Attorney of Gotham City.

Bruce not only quit the League of Shadows when he learned of their nefarious plans for Gotham, destroyed their hideout, saved his supposed mentor, traveled back to Gotham and reinvented himself as a playboy by day, vigilante by night sworn to instill fear in the criminals and bring hope to the hopeless as the symbol of terror, the Batman, ending the reign of the infamous Carmine Falcon, the abuse of the inmates at Arkham Asylum and putting a stop to former mentor Ra's Al Ghul's plot to drive Gotham to madness, thereby saving the city and establishing the Batman as the city's dark guardian.

Harvey had recently arrested nearly 350 criminals in one day, including Sal Maroni and the infamous Chechen. He also enjoyed coffee and hot dogs and making Rachel laugh.

Damn.

Rachel had spent the entire way to work (purposefully avoiding the MCU) and her morning coffee writing this list, comprised of information she knew through Bruce or Harvey (or Alfred) or through background checks (which she'd been privy to as ADA in a somewhat illegal moment of 'getting lost' in the file room near the D's. Harvey would have killed her if he'd found out – not because it was his file she was snooping through, but because it had been in direct violation of about 8 million laws…roughly. She was more like Bruce than she cared to admit). The only thing she'd figured out was that she needed to destroy this paper the second she found a fire of some sort and that both Harvey's and Bruce's lives really sucked.

Call: Harvey Dent.

Double Damn.

"Hello?"

There was a relieved sigh on the other end. "Rachel, look, I'm so sorry for being such a jackass this morning. I know I have no right. I mean, I know I talk to myself, and I'm really sorry, and I know I was just overreacting about last night and I'm not trying to ask for an answer I just want you to know that I'm sorry."

"Harvey."

"And if it is Wayne, even though I think he's a real prick, Rachel, and I don't really understand how you're even friends with him let alone romantically interested because the guy had arrived in a _helicopter_, Rachel, to his own penthouse, for God's sake. And where was he even flying in from? That's my question."

"Harvey."

"He's overcompensating for _something_. Probably his IQ. I really did appreciate the fundraiser but seriously, Rachel, Bruce Wayne? I know he was your friend and you knew him when he was young but Jesus."

"Harvey."

"Yes?"

"Did you get the testimony?"

"Yeah, we're going through it now. Will I see you before the funeral tomorrow?"

Rachel sighed. "Yeah. How about dinner tonight?"

"Sure."

"We can order in."

She could hear the smile in his voice. "That'd be great. I really am sorry, Rachel."

"It's alright, Harvey, I was overreacting, too," she admitted in exasperation. "Look, don't ask me about _it_ again, okay? I'll tell you when I have an answer. This is a big step and I want to think about it."

"I understand."

"And lay off of Bruce Wayne, okay?"

"…."

"Harvey."

"Fine."

"Bye, Harvey."

"See you tonight, Rachel…I love you."

"Love you, too," she murmured, hanging up right after.

Damn.

She arrived at the apartment first, and thank God she had, for the clerk hailed her at the front desk and said that there had been a delivery for Rachel Dawes. The clerk lifted an enormous bouquet of flowers from below, and a giant box of chocolates, a teddy bear, and a bottle of champagne. Attached to the flowers was a small card that said, "To a normal life. –Bruce"

Damn.

Maybe she should take a leaf out of Harvey's book and flip for it. As she was writing her mother's address down for the clerk to resend the gifts, she began devising an ingenious plan. That night, when he wasn't looking, she would steal Harvey's coin. Then, as crazy as it sounded, she'd flip for it. Even as she thought up her master plan, she knew she wouldn't go through with it. Leaving something like that up to chance would be ridiculous. She would just have to keep thinking about it until she could make a proper decision. And she was good at making decisions.

Still, when Harvey arrived and he suggested they flip for either Chinese or pizza, she couldn't help but think, as he tossed the coin into the air:

_Heads for Harvey. Tails for Bruce._


End file.
